


I Have Always Seen You

by LaShaRa



Category: Avatar (2009)
Genre: Backstory, Friendship, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28767654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaShaRa/pseuds/LaShaRa
Summary: If she was one who dwells on things, Neytiri would wonder how Tsu’tey could know her so long and still not know that with her, it’s keep up or die.
Relationships: Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite & Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan
Kudos: 2





	I Have Always Seen You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tweezers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tweezers/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ti'eylan - friendship.

What they are doing is strictly forbidden. If they are caught, there will be consequences for both of them. They have already had too many near misses. 

That’s still not going to stop them. 

“Keep up!” Neytiri hisses. “You must be faster!”

“You must be more cautious!” Tsu’tey counters. They’ve had the same exchange every single time they do this. If she was one who dwells on things, Neytiri would wonder how Tsu’tey could know her so long and still not know that with her, it’s keep up or die. But she is not one who dwells, and therefore she does not also wonder how she could know him so long and still not know that with him, caution comes first. But then they burst out into sunlight and all thoughts of caution depart from her completely. She lets out a triumphant cry, takes the barest glance around and darts out onto the mushroom-studded tree branch. Tsu’tey hisses in furious disbelief, but he follows all the same; she doesn’t need to see him to know his tail is twitching wildly through the air behind him, like the ropes used to lasso stubborn _pa’li_ in the paddock . The movement is as familiar to her as everything about him, from the way he is always one arm’s reach behind her to the way he rocks slightly on his toes as he realizes she has stopped and skids to a halt. 

They are at one of the highest points of the Kelutral. Around them, Eywa’eveng stretches for as far as the eye can see and then beyond, lush and green. They are halfway through the day already, and everything is bright, full of life. Every so often, a gust of wind passes around them, swaying the branches and carrying away a few loose leaves. The village elders often speak about the way things were before the Sky People came, the full colours and the pure air, but to Neytiri, only recently out of childhood, the air at the height of Kelutral is still the purest she has ever tasted, sparkling and fierce like drinking from the waterfalls that are visible to them now. She thinks this must be how it is to fly with the  _ ikran _ . Glancing sideways at Tsu’tey, she watches his toes curl and uncurl on the branch, watches the line of his jaw soften and his eyes fix on the horizon, and she knows he shares this thought. 

She is not expecting to hear his next words. “You were right to attempt this challenge today,” Tsu’tey says.

Neytiri crows. “ _ Oho! _ Tsu’tey is admitting I am right about something? And what is the reason for this great occasion?”

Tsu’tey pushes her with his shoulder, but his eyes remain on the horizon. “You are right sometimes. I do not always say so, but I can admit that. Today, you were right because…” he trails off for a moment. “We do not see each other often anymore. It is pleasing to spend time with you, even if you insist on doing forbidden things.”

She looks sharply at him. “You told me that you dreamed of learning to be  _ taronyu _ . Is that not true?”

Tsu’tey blows air through his nose; he raises a hand to his right ear and traces its torn edge. This is another gesture familiar to Neytiri, something she has seen him do almost unconsciously since childhood whenever he struggles with something, be it a task or a game or a conversation. “It is still my dream,” he continues. “To be challenged every day, it is an honour. But we are challenged often and so we are away from Kelutral often. And I do not - I cannot - ”

Neytiri looks down, to give him time to form the words; another gust of wind passes around them and she sees his toes curl and then dig sharply into the branch beneath them. Suddenly, she understands, and feels foolish for not having understood sooner. 

“Paskalin.” She says it softly, and Tsu’tey stops moving. The wind whirls away, leaving the branches around her and Tsu’tey to imitate their own stillness. Neytiri feels a shiver run through her from toes to _tswin_ ; it is not a word she has heard from anyone since she was a child, and it is not a word she says to anyone else. Only to Tsu’tey; only at times like this, when the Omaticaya fall away and it is just the two of them. 

She raises a hand and sets it carefully on his arm, over the woven band that he wears now that he has begun learning to be  _ taronyu _ . “All energy is only borrowed; one day you will give it back,” she says; the sound of the words is a well-known weight, part of all the conversations she has heard her mother have with her elder sister, as preparation for the day that Sylwanin will be Tsahik. 

“Dreams are like that, I think,” Neytiri continues, and Tsu’tey says nothing but she knows he listens. “You can be many things at once, and some only for a short time. Like Sylwanin - she is a daughter of the People, she is my sister, she will be Tsahik. And I am a daughter of the People, and her sister, and will soon choose another place to earn among the People. And you are a son of the people, and a  _ taronyu,  _ and maybe you will be something else, in your life.” She hesitates, moving her hand to the skin of his arm, feeling the blood rush there. “And as long as you are alive - you will be my friend. Some things you have to give back, but this - this is yours. No matter how many times your duties take you away from Kelutral, and me - we will still find each other again. 

Tsu’tey turns his head and looks at her, at last. She does not understand the expression on his face, but his eyes are a shade darker than she is used to seeing, the colour of honey found deep in an old comb. But then she hears it, carried towards them on the wind that begins to gust again - the sound of many wings, the voices of Omaticaya, the trills and whistles of rambunctious  _ ikran.  _

“The hunt is returning!” 

Tsu’tey startles, and she is so shocked by this - because  _ taronyu,  _ however young, should  _ never  _ startle - that she forgets how close he is standing to the edge of the branch. Tsu’tey loses his balance and flails, his body angling sideways over the drop; Neytiri shrieks despite herself and grabs for him even as he reaches back. Her hand catches his knife sheath even as pain erupts in her head; Tsu’tey’s hand has landed in the beaded braids that frame her face. Something snaps, but she has no time to stop and see; as soon as she pulls Tsu’tey back upright they are running, racing back to the trunk of the great tree. Tsu’tey’s tail has barely whipped out of sight before the first of the  _ ikran _ sail into view. 

Eytukan leaps from his mount to the tree limb below, knowing it will fly serenely on to its perch while the younger, wilder  _ ikran  _ of the juvenile hunters snap and squabble, needing their riders' help to settle. His knees crack as he lands, but his face remains serene, as befits the leader of the Omaticaya, however aged. He walks a few steps, watching the soles of his feet and how they become accustomed once more to taking his weight, and then he frowns. 

There is something shining from a groove in the wood of Kelutral, something that does not belong there. He stoops and sweeps the wood with his hand; raising it into the light, he realizes they are beads, fashioned from a shell of sunset orange. They are also familiar; he casts his mind back to the previous night, the Omaticaya gathered as they do every night around the fire, and his daughters, Sylwanin weaving a new set of beads into Neytiri’s hair with her usual calm, Mo’at saying not too softly that she could not remember the last time Neytiri had sat so still. Eytukan sighs; quite possibly she was so still because she was planning this trip, forbidden to those who do not yet ride  _ ikran.  _ He is not at all surprised. 

But Neytiri, headstrong as she is, also enjoys her adventures more when she has someone else to shock. Eytukan narrows his eyes and sniffs the beads. There is a faint aroma wafting from them, beyond that of his daughter; sharp and dark and bloody, the scent of one who hunts often. 

He smiles. Tsu’tey is a fine youth, even on days when he is not being led into trouble by Neytiri. His father Ateyo, who is often _eykyu_ on occasions when Eytukan himself is not flying with them, is a skilled archer and Tsu’tey will surpass him soon in that and other talents. There are other young  _ taronyu  _ who are more battle-ready, more warlike, who live and breathe for the hunt - sometimes they are more like the Sky People than they are like the Omaticaya. Eytukan is a strategist who remembers the first skyships arriving; he understands the need to think like your enemy. They will need that, for the war that might be coming. But Eytukan is also looking for someone to lead the Omaticaya not only through battle, but through what comes after - and he is beginning to see a direction in which to look. True, Tsu’tey is quiet, a youth of few words, still settling into his role in the clan - but anyone who can keep up with Neytiri - wild, headstrong Neytiri, who risks Mo’at’s wrath by declaring that she does not even have the patience to help with Sylwanin’s preparations to be Tsahik - must have strength and fire inside them. 

Eytukan turns to the hunters making their way towards him, having finally settled the  _ ikran.  _ “Ateyo,” he calls, and a tall, grizzled man turns away from the others to incline his head. Eytukan beckons, smiling faintly. “Come, my brother, and share a meal with me. I wish to speak with you about your son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pa’li - direhorses  
> Kelutral - Hometree  
> Eywa’eveng - Pandora  
> taronyu - hunter  
> paskalin - sweet berry  
> tswin - queue  
> eykyu - leader of a hunting party
> 
> It's the old explanation - I wanted more backstory for Neytiri and Tsu'tey (who deserved better) - so I wrote it. More to come soon!


End file.
